


Mr. Spider receives a guest

by PinotPurple



Series: Cowards Collective inspired aus [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Sort Of, Web!Martin, You Decide, canon typical spiders, elias dad au, implied jonmartin, spider family au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 06:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20792285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinotPurple/pseuds/PinotPurple
Summary: Martin gets a good and proper dad ::::)





	Mr. Spider receives a guest

**Author's Note:**

> Pssst read this one first: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20792198 , it explains Jon and Elias' deal

Martin Blackwood was 9 years old at the time.

He started going to school and, in all honesty, he didn't like it. Kids were mean and they started picking on him almost immediatly. He was chubby, a finger taller than the others, had curly hair and a face swarmed by freckles. A few of the birthmarks were bigger than the rest and dotted his face. He was shy and quiet, tried to listen and to be obiedient. All these were apparently reasons to be picked on. Then, again, bullies don't need much ammo to do it. Anything will do. Martin was too quiet, too slow, too clumsy, too shy, his face and his posture were never correct, his reaction was never right. He was an ass-kisser to the teachers and he still got less than average grades. Martin's sharp tongue didn't help him out much. For some reason, defending himself somehow made him be the one to get in trouble. It didn't make any sense.

Still, he liked it better at school than at home. His father was almost never there, always away with work overseas. He idly wondered if he hadn't actually left them by themselves completely. His mother was always there, too weak to work. Her sickness was getting worse and little Martin was anxious regarding her future. They lived off of the money his father sent them every other week. Martin did the work around the house when his mother's pains flared up. He got himself dressed in the morning, made his own lunch, walked himself to school, came back, dusted, vaccumed, put and took the laundry out of the washing machine, kept the house tidy, stayed quiet, did his homework, did well in school, caused as little fuss as possible, bothered his mother as little was possible. It was very easy to put her in a bad mood and very hard to get her out of it. Martin hated to think about it, but it felt like she also liked it better when Martin was at school.

Martin was often fed up with it, you know? Other mothers came after their children at schools, other mothers hugged them and kissed them on the cheek, other mother mothers didn't throw a fit if they forgot to do something after a long day or complained of something not being done right while they lie on the couch or in bed all day, claiming to not feel well _again_. His mother sometimes had the strenght to get up and walk around the house and when she did she would point out every single thing out of order. Martin could be _in the process of doing it right_, but because he wasn't done with it the moment his mother saw it, it was as if he didn't do it at all. It didn't make any sense and it was so unfair. Everything was so unfair. His own feelings were unfair, because Martin would feel guilty for feeling that way. His mother was sick, of course she needed help. He was her son, he had to help her. He wasn't an awful person, like his father, despite what his mother would imply in her subtle but harsh remarks. He tried to make himself feel better at school, but over there was the same kind of bully, just in different ages and numbers. Everything was so damn unfair. Why couldn't Martin's mom love him? Why couldn't he have fun at school like the other kids? _Why, just why_?

One of his teachers, Mrs. Smith, noticed Martin sitting away from the other kids. She noticed him get bullied but didn't do anything about it. She wasn't about to get yelled at by their stupid parents. Kids are just kids, they will work out their problems themselves. Still, she did walk up to him and asked him if he was alright.

"Oh, yes, I am!" He said, voice as tiny as a mouse.

"You're always sitting alone. Why don't you go make friends?"

"I do have friends!"

"Really? Who?"

"I have George! But, um, he's not here right now."

"I see."

Martin sighed in relief when she left. It wasn't a lie, he did have a friend named George. It was his pet and it lived in the right corner of his closet. His mother was allergic to fur and feathers - they made her feel even worse - and she couldn't stand bugs. So when Martin found a grey spider with long long legs in his closet, he decided to keep it there, out of her sight. When he caught a fly or a mosquito, he'd give it to it, and so the spider remained. He named it George, though he wasn't sure why. He looked like a George. Martin would lie in front of the open closet, do his homework on the floor rather than on the desk, and talk to George while George fixed its web or inspected the clothes near it. When Martin was taking clothes out of the closet, he had a moment of fear of squishing George by accident. But he was always there and he had been for months by now. How long do spiders live? Ideally, forever, so Martin had a friend to talk to and who would listen to whatever, even if it wouldn't reply. Martin tried not to think about it, but it was_ because_ George couldn't talk back. It couldn't say mean things disguised as instructions, it couldn't ask questions with no good answer. George couldn't hurt him.

George's web was very pretty. It was silver and in the dim light that got to the inside of the closet, it looked almost blue-ish! One day, George was fixing its web. It weaved a new supportive string and left the broken one just hanging and collecting dust. Martin very carefully picked it. It sticked to his fingers even if he couldn't feel it. He decided to wrap it around his finger, like ring. Jewelry isn't for boys, apparently, but not even he could see this one.

*

Martin was on his way back from school. At the red light, he saw a fancy car with a boy his age in the back. He wore a uniform from a fancy school. The car drove up the hill Martin had to pass to go home, the hill atop which all the fancy and rich people live. It must be nice...

Up the hill, the car was parked. Elias Bouchard and his son, Jonathan, walked to their front porch, where a large package was set. Jon saw his father's eyebrow twitch. He pushed the package over the threshhold. It was quite heavy.

"Jon, go change your clothes. Dad has to make a phonecall."

Jon did as he was told and walked back to find the package had been taken to the living room. The top of it was cut open and the box cutter lay on the table next to it. Jon could hear his father's voice in the adjecant office. A terrible curiosity struck him and he went to open the package. Inside were lots of things, wrapped in protective plastic and drowned in packing peanuts. On top of the pile was a book with a white cover. The name and illustration on the front were covered by peanuts.

Jon pulled it out and read the title. _A guest for Mr. Spider_. On the front was a drawing on said Mr. Spider. It was creepy. Jon liked it. He wasted no time in opening the book and starting to read. It was a short volume and he reckoned he could read it and put it back before his father returned.

As he began to read, however, his lively brown eyes lost more and more of their light until they were blank. He began to move, nose still in the book, uneasy step by uneasy step until they got confident and Jon was marched out the door. The door to Elias' office flung open. He looked around and cursed out loud when he saw the front door wide open.

Elias ran down the street after Jon and quickly caught up with him. He snatched the book from his little hands, snapping Jon out of it with a gasp. Before Jon could realise or ask what was happening, Elias chucked the book down the hill on the side of the pavement. Jon watched the book unceremoniusly tumble down and disappear into the small patch of trees.

"Wh-What happened?!" Jon asked.

"I'll explain at home." Elias groaned and took his hand.

_A guest for Mr. Spider_ fell and fell down the hill. It hit a rock and went left instead of right, it hit a tree and fell to the right instead of getting stuck in it and it fell until it reached the pavement at the base of the hill, just a few feet in front of a little boy. The startled boy too a step back before walking up to the now dirty and battered white book.

"_A guest for Mr. Spider _?" Martin read out-loud, confused, looking up the hill before picking it up. He opened it and began reading.

Almost immediatly he felt it. Strings materialized around his legs and feet and pulled them, left then right, left the right, making him walk. Strings were wrapped around his fingers, making him turn the page and hold the volume. Strings were wrapped around his eyeballes, making him look and take in the page he was looking at. Martin was aware of all of it happening, he wasn't in a trance like Jon. He must have been a little bit, though, as he didn't feel scared as much as he felt confused. Curious, almost, as to what was happening and where he was going. The book was a creepy one that he would have normally put down by now. Mr. Spider wasn't a nice spider, like George was. It was fat and dark and bulbous and murderous.

He was stopped from walking when he reached the last page. It was a cutout for a door he was supposed to knock on with a reminder to be polite. Martin's arms moved and place the cutout on a real door. His heart sank and his eyes went wide in realisation. He fought against it and only knocked once instead of twice, but the door still opened and Martin couldn't move any further.

It was worse than he imagined. Mr. Spider was concealed by darkness, but he could still see how gigantic it was. All colour drained from Martin's skin when those legs, long and and covered in black hair, as large as him, left the darkness and surrounded him, slowly, preparing to snatch him.

Why isn't he being snatched?

Mr. Spider blinked with all eight of the eyes that dotted his face, one at a time, clockwise. It tilted its misshapen head, his hat tipping to the side as he did. One of its legs moved beneath Martin's hand, lifting it up a little. Martin felt bile rise in his throat at the feeling. George's silver ring shone in the dim light.

_Who is it, Mister Spider?_

_It's Martin Blackwood._

_And what does he bring?_

_... Just himself._

_...Oh._

*

Martin grades were going up and his bullies let him be. By fifth grade he was at the top of his class. Mrs. Smith knew she knew what she was doing. But a few things bothered her. It wasn't just Martin's situation that changed, it was Martin himself. He was sneakier, more cunning, he knew how to make himself not noticed, while remaining a very sweet boy on his best behaviour. Also, which was much more concerning, was the fact his mother was nowhere to be found. Martin was well-dressed, well-fed, he did his homework and projects, his grades were great, he brought money, absence notes and doctor's notes when necessary, he brought Mrs. Blackwood's signature, but Mrs. Blackwood seemed to be gone. The other teachers told Mrs. Smith not to worry about it. Besides, who wants to worry with that lady? Nobody.

Another thing Mrs. Smith noticed happened during a test. She was walking around her students, when her eye was caught by something shiny in Martin's hair. She thought it was a premature white hair, but no, it was far too shiny, it was silver almost. She stopped him during recess.

"Martin, there's something in your hair." She said.

"Oh, gosh." He said and made to reach for it but Mrs. Smith already plucked it out. It was spider silk. Both of them looked at it for a moment before Mrs. Smith shook it off her hand and dismissed Martin. But it wasn't the end of it. Whenever light shone on Martin, he had shiny threads of spider silk in it. There's porbably an explanation for Mrs. Blackwood's silence but this is_ weird_, isn't it?

The cherry on top was the day summer vacation began. Mrs. Smith was taking a walk before heading back home and she saw none other than Martin Blackwood, walking quite far away from the area she knew his home was, still in his uniform and with his backpack on, his hair shining in the light of dawn. Mrs. Smith couldn't help herself. It was like there was something tugging at her to go find out what was up. So she did. She followed Martin from several feet away.

He walked for quite some time. He went down a street where there were many old and derilict houses, abandonned or for sale since Mrs. Smith's parents were Martin's age. Mrs. Smith wondered what he was going to do when he walked up the porch of one of them, seemingly at random. Mrs. Smith slowed down, realising only the two of them were on the old street. The sun was barely visible on the horison and the sky was more dark blue than red. Mrs. Smith felt goosebumps.

Martin knocked on the door and it opened for him. He went inside, but the door didn't close behind him. There was a moment of absolute silence with the door wide open. Mrs. Smith turned her foot to turn around and leave, fearing what may come out of the darkness of that door, when something did come out.

*

"...A-And then I ran."

"I see." The stern old woman in front of her said. She was told at the desk her name is Gertrude Robinson. "And that was all?"

"Y-Yes, that's all. I haven't seen Martin since. I understood he moved to a different school, but I couldn't find where."

"Have you tried to contact Mrs. Blackwood?

"I tried, her phone number and the adress _I knew_ should have been in the school files, but..."

"But?"

"They were gone. Just, gone. As if Martin was never our student."

"I see..." Gertrude Robinson straightened up in her seat, turning off the tape recorder. "Thank you for you time, Mrs. Smith."

"I... I thank you as well."

"You are going to retire soon, right?"

"Y-Yes."

"Hopefully, no more strange children until then!"

Mrs. Smith laughed. Both women got up from their seats. Gertrude walked Mrs. Smith to the door. She opened it and had Mrs. Smith started walking a second sooner, she would have collided with a 13 years old boy dashing across the hallway, hands full of files and papers haphazardly picked up. A tall man with blond hair was chasing after him.

"Jon!! Give them back!!"

Gertrude took a deep and shaky breath to calm herself down and led a confused Mrs. Smith out the door.

*

_Martin Blackwood_. Why did Jon find that name familiar?

Jonathan became head archivist after his predecessor, Gertrude Robinson, went missing. He acquired himself three assisants: Sasha James, Timothy Stoker and Martin Blackwood. All three of them were of exceptional skill. But something was off about Martin. His CV was stellar for a 29 year old. That itself wasn't odd, but Martin himself was, though, with all his powers and _destiny_, Jon couldn't figure out why. Martin was a kind man, diligent and hardworking. He always did more than he promised, but seemed to purposefully promise less than he was actually going to give. To give a nice surprise. He lent anyone a helping hand. He always made sure Jon was ok, wasn't too tired, offered himself as someone to vent to when Jon seemed too stressed or upset with his father. Sweet, kind Martin.

Jon knew he read the name Martin Blackwood before, so he searched. Perhaps Martin gave a statement in the past.

He didn't except Martin to be what the statement was about.

Spiders. _Of course_ it was spiders.

Martin acted normally. Too much so. Though that might have been Jon being paranoid. Jon couldn't see or sense anything on him, other than an occasional silk thread sticking to his hair or his clothes, which only made him more suspicious. Was it a name coincidence?

"Here's your tea." Martin's quiet voice snapped him out of his thoughts as a mug was placed on his desk.

Jon stuttered out a thank you and looked up at Martin, who was looking down at him. Martin offered to clink mugs. Jon accepted it, _clink_, and drank the tea, while still looking at him. Martin smiled, his freckles and his birthmarks crinkling together with his gentle eyes. The tea was as sweet as his smile. Too sweet. _He knew_. Martin smiled wider.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3  



End file.
